


Serious Injury May Occur

by dracoqueen22



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Groping, Humor, M/M, Season/Series 02, flirting fail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 00:50:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Knock Out has a problem with keeping his servos to himself. Dreadwing does not approve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Serious Injury May Occur

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the tf-rare-pairings livejournal comm and the prompt Knock Out/Dreadwing, now you've torqued me off.

It took all kinds to fill an army. This was a well-established fact of military convenience. Certainly it would be more efficient, more combat-effective, if every soldier was perfectly trained, perfectly obedient, and perfectly armed. Unfortunately, reality did not conform to these standards. 

The Autobot army, and Dreadwing used the term loosely, was one shining example of this. 

The brightly-colored grounder who masqueraded himself as a medic was yet another example. Dreadwing honestly didn't know what to think of the gleaming mech that stood before him, barely reaching the curve of his cockpit. The very same mech who had just rounded a corner and all but collided with said cockpit. 

“Oh, pardon me,” Knock Out all but purred at him, offering a thin-fingered servo. “We haven't been properly introduced.” 

Dreadwing side-eyed the gesture. “I know who you are, medic.” 

Laughter bubbled from the smaller mech's chassis. “I didn't realize I was so well-known.” 

He wriggled his digits, as though to entice Dreadwing to complete the greeting. 

He declined. There was something off-putting about this mech, this _grounder_. “I have already downloaded a roster for the Nemesis. That is all.” 

“Boring.” Knock Out finally retracted his servo, only to wave it through the air dismissively. Dreadwing would almost dare call that expression a pout. “Welcome to the Nemesis anyway. It's always a party.” 

Dreadwing arched an orbital ridge. “That I find hard to believe.” 

“You shouldn't.” Knock Out waved another servo. He had a particularly vibrant frame language that Dreadwing was unused to. “There're plenty of Autobots to scrap, high grade to go around, and it's rarely ever boring.” A wry grin quirked the medic's lipplates. 

“Yes. The Autobots.” Dreadwing didn't bother to stop the darkening of his own expression. It was a failure on his part, a source of his shame, that he had been unsuccessful in terminating those responsible for Skyquake's death. 

Knock Out's engine gave off a rude rumble, clearly a mech who hated to be ignored, however briefly. “Right. Autobots. All over the place.” He peered up at Dreadwing. “You look in need of some energon.” 

“I am adequately fueled at the moment.” Dreadwing subtly put a pace between himself and the grounder, easily reading the intent in the mech's barely contained field. 

Knock Out smoothly shifted position, closing the minor distance Dreadwing had gained. “Perhaps a tour then. The Nemesis can be confusing sometimes.” 

“I downloaded the schematics,” Dreadwing retorted and contemplated how much of his dignity would suffer if he turned and fled the obnoxious mech. 

Knock Out pressed forward, undeterred. “The schematics can't show you everything I can.” 

Dreadwing rebooted his audials. Was the mech serious?

“I know all the secrets,” Knock Out continued, his vocals definitely a purr. “Oh. And did I happen to mention that I have a thing for Seeker frames?” 

“No, you did not,” Dreadwing replied with a cursory flick of his optics over Knock Out's design. “Just like I did not mention my distaste for flashy, loud-mouthed grounders.” 

He edged past the medic, hoping that this last exchange would be the end of it and that Knock Out would keep any further interactions on a completely professional level. 

“Have you ever tried one?” Knock Out asked, energy field flicking outward in a distinct invitation that teased coyly at the edge of Dreadwing's own. 

“No.” Dreadwing flicked his wings, a curt display of his irritation. “Nor do I intend to.” 

He considered the matter closed. 

Knock Out, apparently, did not know how to take no for an answer. “That's a shame,” the medic purred. “Because I can think of all sorts of things that might change your mind.” 

And then Dreadwing felt a servo on his aft. 

He slammed to a halt, resetting his haptic net and double-checking his sensors. No. He wasn't mistaken. The medic really had groped him. On the aft. With his servo. Uninvited. 

A low growl built within Dreadwing's chassis, rolling outward like a peal of thunder. 

The servo slid upward, toward the base of his backstrut, inching closer to his thruster. Dreadwing considered his options for half a klik before he whirled and swung out an arm, catching the medic across the faceplate with the back of his servo. 

He watched with no small measure of satisfaction as the flashy grounder flew backward, hitting the wall, optics flaring in stunned disbelief. 

“That,” Dreadwing said, shaking his servo as his lipplate curled with disdain, “was your only warning. I would not suggest making the same mistake twice.” 

He did not give Knock Out a chance to respond, whirling on a pede and stalking down the corridor away from the medic. He had his quarters to find, hopefully a far distance from wherever Knock Out kept his berth. 

He did not bother to look behind him. Whatever damage Knock Out incurred, he had it coming. 

No one touched Dreadwing without his permission. No one.

***

_Bonus Scene_

Uproarious laughter filled the medbay. 

Knock Out summoned up his most virulent glare and tossed it at his partner, though the effect was lost in the wake of his swollen optic, cut lipplate, and sullen energy field. 

“I guess you’re not as irresistible as you think you are,” Breakdown said, more laughter pouring from his frame. 

“I didn't ask for your opinion,” Knock Out retorted, turning back to the mirror and poking at his split lipplate. At least the energon had stopped welling. 

“Oh, but I'm so willing to offer one.” Breakdown slapped his thigh. “I coulda told you he wasn't interested, but no, you had to grope him anyway.” 

Knock Out felt a twitch climb up his backstrut, dangle from his helm, and twiddle his optic. “Shut up,” he snarled. “It's a minor setback.” 

Breakdown's engine revved into a higher pitch. “Right,” he drawled. “Dreadwing _accidentally_ backhanded you into the wall.” 

Growling, Knock Out whirled toward the larger mech. “No one asked you! Now get over here and buff this out!” 

Breakdown rolled his optics. “Whatever you say, Knock Out.”


End file.
